Izuku lives in a one-room apartment. It is compact — there is not much space for flourish or personal flair — but to him it is comfortable. He has a desk shoved against the far corner of the room, one he covers in work papers and newspapers for him to shuffle through, organize, and record in his own personal journals before he goes to bed. His television rests atop his dresser across the room, leaving a foot of space between it and the bed he had to fill the rest of the used space, a comfy queen-sized mattress Izuku had been happy to buy when he rented the place.

He lets the T.V. run the news while he writes, idly picking up ambient notes on heroes to add to their profiles. It is white noise to him and one of the few times he closes his windows and tunes out the outside world. There are heroes that work the nightlife and, surprisingly enough, not as many villains who choose to act out in the dark. It seems most criminals share the mindset of some heroes, using the daylight and the public to push their image and act. Izuku does not care much for that aspect of the career. All that matters to him are the lives he saves and the smiles he sees.

Izuku never works a mission with other heroes and officers, despite his position in the public eye. He has met several high ranking heroes over the two years since he got his own license, but their meetings, more often than not, came through last-second greetings during their missions where he swooped in once he heard things going south or when the missions were starting and they sounded too risky to pass up. As clever as the principal of U.A. is, not everyone is like him, so sending messages or requests for Izuku's help was an act the green man assumes most people gave up on as he continued to appear on other heroes' missions.

It is thoughts like that that continue to distract Izuku from his personal work, tucking away his pencil and papers while he takes stock on his bed. The opportunity to work at U.A. as an instructor for the heroics program is an enticing offer, he cannot deny that. Izuku rarely got to talk to children on the job as Superman, zipping around the world and acting on a split-second notice to stop crime when it seemed no one else could. The times he does get to chat with children is never for the better, talking them back down the staircase or to relax and let go of the weapon they hold. Superman is only ever a hero in the eyes of the public with not a second to waste anywhere else. Izuku wonders if that can change.

His phone rings a second before he swipes it off his desk, and he answers the call without hesitation. "Hey mom," he mutters into the phone, clicking down the volume on his television's remote.

"Oh Izuku!" she cries through the phone, and Izuku can hear her gushing over the call. "I didn't catch you in the middle of work, did I? I know you like to take it home with you—"

"No, I'm all done with work. Kinda just… thinking. Relaxing. Got some stuff on my mind. How are you doing? Dad coming home for the summer yet?"

"No, not yet," she sighs. "Your father's still working with the university to set up for fall semester. He's trying to make his classes fully online, remove lectures, and come home more often, actually. He told me he was going to tell you about it over the phone."

"He hasn't yet." The sound of his mother's voice makes him smile, and the news of his father keeps it on his face. "He did text me that he was going to call on Saturday, so he was probably gonna do it then. You might have spoiled the surprise." He can hear her grumble over the line, chastising herself for speaking.

"I'll make sure to apologize to him later, then," she muses solemnly. "Sorry, sweetie. Hopefully he isn't too disappointed that you know already."

"He shouldn't be. He'll be spending more time with you. That sounds perfect. I'm happy to know you two are going to be together." He smiles and gazes out the window of his apartment. "I'll make sure to call ahead on the days I shouldn't be coming home."

He doesn't ignore how his mother admonishes him for the joke, since he can hear it in her voice that she understood his words were just that. He can hear the smile on her face, even. His dad always does that for her, and it truly does warm his heart to know he will be returning home — hopefully for good. Izuku's parents truly deserve each other, he believes. He had flown his mother across the Pacific to visit him at work for their anniversary, once, and he will do it again in a heartbeat.

The sun setting out of his sight from the window splashes the other buildings with warm oranges and purples. He counts the lights behind window blinders that cut out in waves, with individual rooms refusing to give as the time flies past. The faint hum of traffic below doesn't give away to the same pressure, not in his neighborhood, but he finds soothing peace listening to the engines purr and conversations blow in the wind beneath him. He's fallen asleep to the city sounds before, even once on call with his mother.

But he doesn't fall asleep to the noises today, as his eyes catch sight of a building down the road several blocks away. His vision zooms in just above the building, to the lone individual standing above it and teetering dangerously close to the edge. And they don't back away.

"Mom, I'm gonna have to call you right back," he apologizes over the line, cutting the call short before he even hears her response. He doesn't have the time to lose a layer and throw on his cape before he leaps out the window.

Heights were never something that scared Tokessuru, but looking down at the world six stories below does give him time to reconsider his feelings.

He knows of the warping effect that T.V. shows when people look down from high up, but he doesn't feel that effect. The ground doesn't dip further when he looks down at it, his head doesn't get dizzy swapping between it and the skyline of the city, and the only part of him that's dropping currently is the pit in his own stomach. He's spent months sneaking onto the roof for lunch, escaping the eyes of his classmates and hiding in the silence where the wind is his only companion. He's spent weeks looking through the crosshatching fence to his classmates down below, only ever sparing him a glance before going back to their meals. He's spent days leaning against the fence, brushing his hand along the wires and wondering if he could use his quirk, but backing away at the crowd of students always present.

Now he has the time to himself on an evening after school, campus all but abandoned by everyone else. He has the time alone; no eyes on him to judge, no fingers to draw attention. It is the silence he's not used to having, but it is hard to cherish the last of anything.

He thinks of his mom, most likely stuck at work now, unaware his last text she has gotten of him making it home safe was a lie. He thinks of Tadayoshi and Naoki, his two math classmates he last saw off as school closed, waving goodbye before he walked around the town until the school grounds were finally empty. He thinks of his idol, the great man whose smile sends his heart soaring and whose heroic actions and unflinching drive to save people has inspired Tokessuru's own dream to become a hero.

Tokessuru has a note in his pocket addressed to the man, maybe the only thing he's written in regards to what he's doing. It's not to blame the man for doing nothing, or not being there when Tokessuru needed him most while the man was off somewhere else. All he wrote was an apology that he couldn't turn out the same — that he wasn't going to grow up and be like him — and a thanks for all he had done despite this.

The gate sizzles beneath his palm, wire melting at the touch and dripping on the school top's ledge. The wind kicks up around him. It's a pressure that startles him; he cools his hand and draws back a step from the ledge, grumbling from the back of his throat. "… can't even work up the courage now, huh?"

"I could help you with that, if you want."

Tokessuru nearly pops his own ear drums with his scream, taking notice of the young man in slacks and a button up on the other side of the fence standing on nothing but air. The man gives an apologetic smile and ruffles the back of his dark hair.

"My apologies," he tells Tokessuru, bowing his head slightly. "I thought sneaking up behind you would risk sending you forward, and I didn't want to make a scene and draw more attention than yours coming over here." The man looks back over his shoulder to the violet-covered cityscape. "Although this probably will get a fews eyes if I stay right here. Is it all right if I come over?"

The young middle schooler can only blink and nod his head slowly before the older man rises over the fencing and lands softly on the center of the roof. "Wh—who are you?" he asked the man.

The man gives him a smile back. "Ah, right. Talking to you as a stranger probably won't work." He pauses a moment and scratches his cheek with a single finger. "My name's Midoriya Izuku. I… kinda work a bit up north from here. It's a pleasure to meet you…" His hand rolls as his voice drifts off, gesturing for Tokessuru to speak up.

"Tok," he offers the stranger. The man accepts the response.

"I wish we could be talking on better terms, Tok," the man moves on, looking around the barren evening rooftop before staring at the door accessing the rest of the school building below them. "Would you like to go on a walk? The weather's actually pretty nice out tonight. I was going to go out for a stroll later, but there's no time like the present."

Tokessuru really doesn't want to do that, not with a strange who came out of nowhere. He has steeled himself for this day, for this moment, only for it to be undercut by a guy maybe twice his age barely acknowledging what he is doing. The man is tiptoeing around him, he can tell. It is almost insulting, it takes some average random guy to finally notice him.

"I hope you can forgive me, but I'm pretty sure it's the only way you're getting out of this," Midoriya continues. "I can't let you take another step forward, not that way. I'm not going to let you fall, kid. You're humoring me by talking at all, and I'd like to keep it that way. We can keep talking while we walk." He pushes his glass back up before they can fall from his nose. "I promise you I'll listen. I'd like to think I'm pretty good at doing that."

Midoriya holds a hand out to Tokessuru. It's not one he can reach from where they're both standing. The man isn't moving any closer to let him take hold. If Tokessuru was to fall now, the man can probably catch him before he loses his footing. No reasonable adult would keep this much space between him and a possible jumper, would they?

Tokessuru doesn't take the hand, not when he cools his palms and steps away from the fence. Midoriya's soft smile seemingly grows at the sight and it doesn't falter when the teenager chooses to walk towards the door instead of him. "Fine," Tokessuru sighs, accepting his fate as he opens the door leading below. The man follows behind, closing the door once they're both inside and straggling a step or two away from Tokessuru as they walk.

The man promises they can talk, but he seems to struggle for a place to start. "So" — he looks down the halls as they lower the first flight of steps — "is this where you go to school?"

"Why do you want to know?" Tokessuru finds the question completely suspicious. He's unable to tell if the man is trying to open up to him or vice versa in some friendly manner, or the office man that had illegally flown in on him with his quirk was just looking for an easy target.

The man simply shrugs. "It's just… I grew up in a smaller town down south from here. My middle school barely had a second floor. Then I come here and there's barely a building in sight less than four stories tall. It's got to be a lot harder to learn with so many classmates around; not enough time or attention to get from your teachers."

As if there was any time to spend with them at all, Tokessuru scoffs internally. The teachers had more important things to deal with than their students' questions on homework and personal problems; at least, that's how the teachers saw it. He doesn't voice his thoughts to the man, though.

Midoriya doesn't pay it any mind anyways. "Probably have a lot more classmates than I did," he carries on. "I bet it's a lot harder to remember all their names too. I had classes with all but three other kids, I think, so I nearly knew everyone from my grade. My grade was actually pretty easy to remember. Made a few good friends I sadly haven't kept up with as I've grown up. You make a few of your own?" Tokessuru can feel the man's eyes on the back of his skull as they descend another flight of stairs. "Or are they the reason you went to the roof?"

They stop at the base of the steps. Midoriya stays behind him still, but Tokessuru wishes he was closer so he could punch him. The man's pushing buttons on a keyboard his fingers shouldn't be touching. "What do you care?" he hisses defensively over his shoulder.

"I work at a hero agency," Midoriya replies, brushing aside the harsh tone and keeping his own soft. "Saving lives is kinda the job. Looking out for people is prefered. Prying's bound to happen. A kid standing on the edge of a building shouldn't be ignored."

The man knows the password, Tokessuru notes internally. He drags down the wall until he's sitting at the base of the stairs and it doesn't take long for Midoriya to walk closer and ease down beside him. The young teen still does not look him in the eyes. "You… work for a hero agency?" he asks. He's mystified at the reveal, but still hesitant to accept and believe.

The card that's set on his knee turns his trust otherwise. "I do. I work at All-Might's agency, actually. I've gotten to meet him a few times, too. Big building, but small world, all things considered. Shoulders are a bit more broad in person; wasn't expecting that the first time I met him."

It all felt too intricate to be a set up from a villain, Tokessuru considers. Most criminals are sharp and to the point, and even the rare occasions barely go the length of printing out business cards to talk to children. Any seeing a kid on top of a building probably would have taken him hostage by now or ignored him entirely. He isn't going to look this in the mouth.

"All-Might's agency… you work with the Number One Hero?"

"More I work for him, with a lot of other people in the same building. I barely get to spend time on the job with him, but I've learned a lot under him. I've been able to do so much because of him. The man's my idol."

"He is cool," Tokessuru agrees with a half-hearted shrug. "Not my favorite hero, but he is cool."

"He really is." Midoriya shifts in the corner of Tokessuru's vision, and the teen barely glances over to find the man staring more directly at him. "It's because of him I'm able to be here and do things like this. That I can be here to help you, if you let me."

Tokessuru can trust the man, can't he? Midoriya has hero connections, people who can do good and whose job is to help people. Why couldn't he help?

How would he help?

"What are you going to do?" Tokessuru asks softly, gaze turning away from the man. Midoriya doesn't seem to mind.

"Report it, or them, the kids that urged you up there," the man answers. "They should be held accountable for their actions. Getting you that close to taking your own life is something they can't get away with."

"Will any of them listen to you?" Teachers have been complacent before, Tokessuru knew. It is maybe the only reason things came so far. That and his inability to stand up for himself, he notes dryly.

"I'd like to think I'm pretty convincing," Midoriya replies earnestly, almost catching the teen off his guard. "They'll definitely listen to me; if not, then I think All-Might would be more than happy to vouch for you.

"The only thing we need is your word."

Tokessuru doesn't respond right away, not as Midoriya looks at him when he finishes talking. The promise of a whole hero agency behind his back — him, a nobody middle-schooler to the greatest hero agency in the nation — is a heavy set of hands on his shoulders. They don't feel weighted or forceful; they don't try to push and hold him down. They're a tight grasp on his uniform, connected to a body of trust and faith that warms him to the core.

He turns his head to the suited man beside him, finally. "Are you a hero too?" he asks Midoriya.

There's a strange look behind the smile the dark-green-haired man gives him; humor, Tokessuru thinks it is. It resonates with a smile the boy's familiar with from the hero he watches on the news. "The most I do in the office is look over hero etiquette and copy-editing my employees' reports before they're sent to the police. The most of a hero people see me as is one that saves my coworkers' back from ridicule and unjust hate. When I try to save people, I try to save them here" — his hand juts at Tokessuru's chest before rising to point at his head — "and here. If I can help people find peace within themselves in these places, then I've done my job."

"Then thank you." It is the hands on his shoulders that push Tokessuru forward, bowing his head to the older man while they both stay seated. It's hard to stop his hands from twitching atop his knees and he takes time to steady his breath before it wavers under rising water. "Thank you for finding me, Midoriya sir. My teachers always say standing up for yourself will strengthen your resolve, but—"

"It's a flawed system," Midoriya carries on for him, resting a hand atop the boy's back. "We live in a society, pardon my phrasing. We don't live alone or as individuals and we do not work alone. If we are not looking out for each other and taking care of one another, then our entire system is pointless. Everyone must find their own strength and resolve to push forward, but there is no reason you need to embark on that search alone. We will be here for you to lean on for support, for guidance, and for peace. I am here to help you."

Tokessuru doesn't move from his bow as he struggles to control his tears. Midoriya doesn't move the hand on his back as he waits. The light of sunset peaking through the window continues to rise over their heads, but there is still warmth hugging the boy as the sun disappears.

It is Midoriya who stands first, finishing their way down the steps and waiting at the turn to continue the descent. "I should probably get you home first," he states. "Your parents are probably worried their son is out so late. My mom would have my ear if I wasn't at the dinner table by this time."

"It's fine," Tokessuru sniffles, wiping his tears on his sleeves as he follows down the steps. Midoriya doesn't move as the teen walks around him and continues his trek down the next set of stairs. "My mom's probably still at work. No one's going to be home. She probably thinks I'm still there."

Midoriya does not dig for anything deeper than that. Tokessuru is grateful the man doesn't ask questions that don't have good answers. "This might be a bit harder to explain to her when she does get home, then," the man says instead. "I can explain to her what I know about your situation if you'd rather keep the rest for a therapist. That's up to you."

"Tell… my mom?" He will have to see a therapist? "No… we don't—"

"Do you love your mother?" Midoriya speaks with a soft voice, so slick Tokessuru feels the cut of his words like a knife against his neck before he can feel the man lunge at him.

"What? Of course I do—"

"Then trust her." There is no blade in Midoriya's hand when it settles atop Tokessuru's shoulder. There's no killing intent when he smiles at the boy over his other shoulder. "You're still a minor, so we do need her approval to be around to help you. All-Might's agency has several therapists appointed to the office for heroes who need help, too. Even heroes go through tough times, sometimes rougher than they alone are capable of handling. They help save lives, too, and I can think of one who would probably be best for you to meet and speak with.

"All we need is your mother's approval," he continues as they reach the first floor. "If you love her and you're confident she loves you too, then you or I have to tell her. It will hurt you both for her to know you haven't been truthful to her, but that pain will feel like nothing compared to your love. If she loves you enough to trust you unconditionally, she loves you enough to help you when you ask."

The doors swing open easily under the man's hand, giving them direct access outside to the school's entrance. The scene is barren before them, but the silence doesn't bother Tokessuru. The silence gives him time to think over Midoriya's words, to talk to himself for the short minute before the gate and realize on his own there is no way he could keep this from his mother.

"You didn't answer my question earlier," the young boy tells the older man as they exit Aldera school grounds. He looks up properly to the man, who looks down directly at him. "Are you a hero?"

There's a smile over the man's face again — that familiar, comforting smile — as he gingerly removes his glasses and tucks them into the chest pocket of his vest. "My apologies. I didn't have the time to dress up before I found you," he begins. "I don't like going out without my full costume or someone might recognize me, and you didn't look like you were trying to draw attention." A hand rises to cup over the man's hair, sleeking back before resting on the back of Midoriya's head. He blinks and widens his smile, and it only takes Tokessuru a few seconds to stare before he nearly falls flat on his ass with recognition.

Superman has a finger over his own lips before Tokessuru can shout. "Do you mind keeping this a secret for me? I like to keep the names separate."

"Y-you… you're…" Tokessuru can feel himself having a heart attack at the man before him, at the hero in front of him. This casually-dressed business man who works for and with All-Might was the coolest hero beneath him?

Superman hums and chuckles before he lets go of his hair, allowing it to poof back into the messy look of Midoriya. "My apologies again that I didn't say anything sooner," he tells the young boy. "I didn't want to make you think I was touting around my badge with what I said. Too many civilians forget heroes are people too. Some heroes do, too."

"Superman… you're…" Where All-Might is the Symbol of Peace in the eyes of the public — a man who had broken down walls until the world of crime became a shadow beneath the man's looming smile — Superman is their Symbol of Hope that even when the current generation of heroes passes, those who follow will only carry on their legacy with pride and continue to prevent crime from destroying society. Where All-Might was a towering figure with a gigantic smile and a booming voice, Superman was a foot shorter with a simple grin and a soothing tone.

Where most boys wanted to become strong and the next All-Might, Tokessuru wanted only Superman's kindness.

The man barely jolts from his spot as the boy suddenly tackles him in a hug. He doesn't say a word about the boy's mumbles and sniffles. He makes no attempt to push the boy off, instead laying his arm around the boy gently and settling into the hug. "Maybe I should have opened with that," Midoriya comments softly.

Superman heard him. Tokessuru's hero had seen the young boy in his time of struggle and appeared before Tokessuru could perform his final act. The teen can feel the English insignia underneath the man's suit, the 'S' symbol that decorated the hero's uniform hidden by two layers of button-up shirts, the symbol itself layered over a soft-beating heart. It really is him, standing before the boy, walking him down the steps of his middle school, promising the boy his hand in helping him...

Currently returning the sudden hug Tokessuru had given without permission.

For all of Superman's strength as seen on the news, Tokessuru isn't expecting to jump out of the embrace so easily. He stands back from the hero, face as heated as his quirk as he tries to compose himself before his idol. "S-sorry about that," he apologizes with a quick bow. "I… didn't mean to jump you like that…"

The hero in disguise only smiles as he pulls his glasses back out. "It's all right," he says, brushing the boy's embarrassment aside. "You looked pretty emotional about this. It would have been wrong of me to push you away when I've spent the past half an hour trying to show you my full support. Would have offered you one earlier if I knew you wouldn't mind a hug." The man's words do little to kill the boy's burning face.

"You're—uh—you're my favorite hero," Tokessuru barely manages to whisper. He isn't too surprised the man can hear him, as the hero raises an eyebrow from behind his glasses.

"Really? I was surprised when you said it wasn't All Might. Didn't expect someone a lot like him to be your favorite in his place."

"You've very different from All Might!" It's a louder outburst than Tokessuru is meaning for it to be, and his brief moment of strength dwindles under the surprised stare the hero gives him. "All-Might's an everyone kind of guy but he feels like he's always at arms' length. You feel a lot more… personal." It is a poor choice of words, Tokessuru realizes, as he nearly passes out from the heat in his head. It was exactly times like this that the other boys made fun of him for.

It doesn't help him any when the hero strides forwards through the space between them and throws an arm over the boy's shoulder. "I try to be, you know," the hero touts himself proudly. "All-Might's a busier man than I am, and since I can't spend too much time around cameras before someone can piece two and two together, I try to be as friendly as I can with who I meet. Don't want to make every situation feel like a hit-and-run. And I'm honored you think of me as your favorite hero." Tokessuru does his best to keep the heat away from his hands so he doesn't end up burning his hero.

He feels the weight of the letter in his pocket, the letter he had directed at his hero. He did not bring it with him for his hero to see; even if he had jumped, he believes Superman might have been too busy elsewhere to ever read it. The man is here, now, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. But Tokessuru doesn't plan on giving it to him. It's an apology letter to the man, to the hero.

He doesn't want to sour the moment or embarrass himself more.

"Can you… tell her? When we get home?" Tokessuru's voice is soft when he asks, head hanging low and close to his chest. Superman squeezes his shoulder lightly.

"No problem, Tok." The use of his father's nickname for him sends his heart soaring to heights it hadn't when the man was just Midoriya. "I've got your back."

"Kātsuo Tokessuru." He looks up to the hero barely towering over him. "That's my name. Tok is just a nickname. But please keep using it."

"Midoriya Izuku." The man smiles back. "If you want, you can call me Kal. It's an old nickname of mine."

Tokessuru agrees without a second thought, promising not to spill a single word of this to his mother per the hero's request. He isn't going to tell her how he walks glued to the man's side with an arm still over his shoulder, either. It's too special to him.

"I've… actually dreamed of being a hero like you," Tokessuru admits shyly on their trek. "Everyone else wants to be heroes too, but only one of us wants to go to U.A. He probably will. D-do" — he stutters as he looks away — "you think I can be a hero too?"

Superman looks at him passively. "Do you want to go to U.A. too?" The young teen nods slowly. "You've got what, a year or two before you can apply? It'll be awhile before you can even take the exam. And as you are now, it's probably not safe to let you just go on the field and act as any other hero. But give yourself some time, open up and accept the help you're given until you feel like your own two feet are on the ground" — the hero gives him a bright smile — "and I'll make sure the principal puts you in my class."

The reaction from Tokessuru is instantaneous as his eyes sparkle up at his hero. "You're going to be teaching at U.A.?!" he nearly screams. The hero simply nods as his answer and the boy presses into the hero's side just that much closer.

Dear Superman,

My name is Kātsuo Tokessuru. Hi. I'm sorry, I don't know how to start this. I'm a big fan of yours. You're my favorite hero. I've watched every clip of you on the news the day it airs. I have a small copy of one of your posters in my backpack every day I go to school. I'm sorry if that sounds creepy, but you're a real inspiration to me.

I want to be like you when I grow up. I want to be as brave as you are and as cool as you are. I want people to look up to me the way I look up to you. I want to be a hero, even if my quirk is basically nothing compared to what you're able to do.

But I'm not going to be a hero. I don't think I can be. I'm sorry. These last few weeks have been hard and the other kids at my school haven't made this better. I don't want to be around them anymore. I don't think I can be. I know they don't want me to be around them. They don't think I can be a hero like you or All Might. And I think they're right.

One of the older boys really doesn't want me to be a hero. His quirk is kinda like mine. All the boys think his quirk is better. He doesn't like me wanting to be a hero and he doesn't like me liking guys like you. He told me I should try again. That I should try to be born as someone worth a hero's time. I think he might be right.

I'm sorry I can't be someone like you, that I can't be a hero like you. I'm sorry to the boys that I can't be like them. I'm sorry to dad that I can't be strong for mom. I'm sorry to mom that I can't be like dad. I love you both.

Thank you, Superman, for being so brave and strong. For being the Symbol of Hope. Maybe, if I meet you in my next life, I'll find that hope from you. I'm sorry I couldn't be closer to be a part of it. I'm not blaming you, I promise. It's my fault I am who I am, not yours. I'll try to do better after today.

Thank you,

Kātsuo Tokessuru